My Samcedes Week 2014 One Shots!
by girlwithdimplesx
Summary: A compilation of all my one shots for Samcedes week day by day. :) Rated M for day six.
1. Day One: Falling in Love

Samcedes Week Day 1: Falling in Love

_AU Inspired by song Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop by Landon Pigg. _Please watch the music video on youtube for reference-make sure it is the **ALTERNATE VERSION. **FF won't let me link it. ^.^

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On a sunny Saturday afternoon in June, inside of a small town coffee shop, he saw her for the first time. He'd been walking towards the local comic book shop when he'd saw her through the glass window, her eyes focused on the notebook that she tapped her pen on, chewing on her plump lips in thought. He noticed how her dark, curly and thick hair would fall and cover her face before she'd push it behind her ear. She was incredibly beautiful, and on first sight he felt the need to be near her. He went everyday for a two weeks after that at the same time. Sometimes she'd show up and other times she wouldn't, and it wasn't long before he learned the days she came in. Most days she seemed happy, and others not as much. Seeing her sad made him feel bad, and he wished more than ever then that he knew her, so that he could talk to her, comfort her.

He felt odd about it, showing up on each of those days just to see her-especially since he intensely hated the coffee. And most nights he tried to talk himself out of going the next day, but each day he went, she gave him more reason to want to come back.

He'd been curious about what it was she would write in her notebook that kept her so focused and yet distracted from the rest of the world. But then one afternoon he heard someone humming softly and beautifully in line behind him. And when he'd turned his head only slightly, he found it was her, standing behind him, her eyes fixated on the tiny notebook in her hand as she sang quietly. And he couldn't fight the smile that played on his lips as he looked forward again. That day he learned that she wrote songs and she sang them beautifully. And the next time when he saw her, he learned that she was kind as he watched her buy two bagels and a coffee before handing it all to a homeless man outside across the street.

Each day he learned small things about her, but never enough to make him less curious. He wanted to get to know her-just her name would be enough for a little while. Some afternoons he'd walk into the shop, his confidence high. He'd be determined to say something or do something to get her attention somehow. But each time he saw her, his self-assurance would falter and he would flop down instead at the table he always sat at, and watch as she lived her life without any notice of him. He wondered what she did at home, what her friends were like, how her laugh sounded at three in the morning, what she dreamed of doing, what inspired her and why she was always alone. He had many theories about her and the person she was, but he couldn't indulge in them because he didn't know if they were true.

He wondered about _her_.

And wondering was all his little courage would allow him to do.

On a Wednesday night, he lay on the couch of his apartment, his eyes staring blankly at the television as he thought of her and what she might have been doing at that very moment. He often thought about that-what her general existence was like when he couldn't see her. He only wished he knew her well enough to miss her.

"Sam?" his roommate and best friend Blaine called, interrupting his thoughts. Blaine moved to sit on the coffee table in front of him. "Why are you sulking?" he asked him.

"I'm not," Sam replied quietly.

"You look like a kicked puppy," Blaine retorted and Sam sighed. "Is this about coffee girl again? Have you still not said anything?"

"What am I supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm Sam, you don't know me but I come to this coffee shop to stare at you because I really think I might like you if I knew you but I'm too scared to actually say anything'?" Sam asked. Blaine shrugged.

"It's a bit long-winded." he replied sarcastically and Sam rolled his eyes.

"What am I supposed to say to the girl who I know nothing about? And besides that she doesn't even know I exist." Sam frowned.

"You don't have to know her to say something to her. No one ever knows anyone until they do say something to them," Blaine said.

"This is a coffee shop, Blaine. Okay-she goes there to enjoy her coffee and be alone obviously. She's never there with anyone." Sam told him. Blaine thought for a moment in silence before speaking again.

"Well, what does she usually do when she's there?" he asked him and Sam shrugged.

"Write, I guess. She always has this notebook with her." Sam said. Blaine's eyes widened as he thought of something.

"Why don't you just ask her for a pen?" he suggested.

"But I don't need a pen," Sam replied flatly, his expression blank. Blaine closed his eyes as he sighed.

"Yeah, Sam, I know you don't. This is just a way for you to get a conversation going with her, that's all." he explained and Sam nodded as he understood. "Next time you go there and you see her, just go to her table and casually ask her for a pen and when she gives it to you, smile, thank her, and introduce yourself. See where it goes from there. Sam, I know you're nervous about it but you can't just keep living in this world where the only version of this girl you know is the one you made up in your head. I mean what if she's actually not even a nice person? You'll have wasted so much time daydreaming about a girl who it turns out you don't even like." he said. "Just make the move and get it over with. Anything could happen." he told him. Sam listened to his best friend. He knew he was right. He'd always been afraid to find out who she really was because he already liked the person he hoped she was. And if she actually turned out to be someone he could barely stand to be around, what would happen then?

All that was left to do was find out. And as he entered the coffee shop that next morning, he fought to keep his momentum going. She wasn't there yet so he bought a cup of the horrible coffee and sat down at a table, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong and all the ways it could go so wonderfully right. He wondered as he stared down into his coffee, how he would say those simple words-if they would sound right and genuine coming out of his mouth or if he would make a mess of them. His thoughts were interrupted though when he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice in front of him.

"Excuse me," it called. His head popped up quickly and he was taken aback when he found her standing in front of him, smiling as she looked at him. He almost thought he was dreaming. His throat was suddenly blocked, no words escaping him. When he didn't respond, she continued anyway.

"Would you happen to have a pen?" she asked. And that was when his stomach flipped upside down. Had she just asked the same question he was meant to ask her? He'd never once seen her pen-less in all the times he'd seen her. She always had a pouch full on the table._There's no way she actually needs a pen._ He thought. He could only wonder if this meant what he thought it meant-that she'd been sneaking peeks at him, too; and that she'd gotten the same advice from one of her friends, too.

A nervous smile pulled at his lips before he went to dig through his bag, quickly finding a pen and handing it to her. She smiled as she took it.  
"Thanks," she said and he meant to say _you're welcome_ but before he could she spoke again, sending his heart on a rampage. "I'm Mercedes," she introduced and he swallowed hard as he saw her hand extend towards him. The world around him froze as he looked at her, wondering if she knew how long he'd waited for this moment-wondering if she'd been waiting for this moment, as well.  
_Mercedes_.

He _finally_ knew her name.

There would be no turning back now, no panicking and walking away, because now she was here-standing in front of him, her smile almost impossibly more beautiful when directed at him. He grinned as he shook her hand, an instant thrill coursing through his body at the touch of her skin. Excitement quickly replaced the fear that once lived in his mind as he looked at her and spoke his first words to her-the girl he'd been dreaming of knowing for too long-

"I'm Sam,"


	2. Day Two: Time Travel

Samcedes Week Day 2: Time Travel

**AU: Don't be thrown off by the dialogue. This one shot is set in the year 1967 in lower class Virginia and is based loosely off of the story of ****_The Lovings_****_-_****the interracial couple whose civil rights case invalidated laws prohibiting interracial marriage. I honestly can't say what made me do it but I hope yall like it. ^.^ sorry for any errors.**

Mercedes was walking around the town market along with her friends Annette and Mildred, looking for the ingredients for a big dinner her mother had planned to prepare that night. They were laughing and talking among themselves as they strolled when a man with blonde hair, green eyes, and unusually full lips walked past them, his eyes focused solely on her. Mercedes trembled beneath his sight, she wasn't completely sure what she should make of the feeling and she didn't have time to decide because her thoughts were suddenly interrupted at the sound of Annette scoffing once the blonde was gone.

"What the hell was he lookin' at?" she asked and Mercedes shrugged.

"I don't know." she replied quietly.

"I swear, these white folk stare any harder their eyes'll fall outta their heads," Annette said.

"We got two heads or somethin'?" Mildred asked rhetorically. Mercedes shrugged again, silent as they complained, her thoughts drifting.

"Mercedes?" Annette called

"I don't know, yall." she replied quickly. "I'mma go ask them where the cabbage is, alright?" she told them and they nodded as she turned to walk away. She walked at a steady pace towards a register at the front and just as she made it there, she looked back to see if her friends were watching, and when she found that they weren't, she moved quickly outside of the store. She headed around the corner and behind the building instead, walking down the grassy hill. When she neared the small shack that she'd come to know so well, a smile formed on her lips immediately. Entering, she could already smell his scent, but as she looked around the dimly lit shack, she couldn't see him.

"Sam?" she called but there was no immediate response. Just as she started to call for him again though, she was silenced by a pair of soft, plump lips, pressing abruptly against hers. She recognized them immediately and smiled into the kiss, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

The truth was, Mercedes and Sam had been secretly seeing each other for almost five months. They'd met late one night when Mercedes had been leaving a local Black club that she sang at three nights a week. Sam had been walking past the club on his way to the bus stop from his uncle's house and when he'd heard her voice, he'd stopped in his tracks, almost reflexively. He'd walked bravely into the club, following the voice and finding it flowing from the mouth of a woman he grew to love only a week later. Some people stared and scowled, some greeted him. It didn't matter to Sam either way, he just couldn't keep his eyes off of her. She was a powerhouse and she was special-he knew that before he even saw her. But upon laying his eyes on her, he felt something more-something that he immediately knew wouldn't disappear after just one night. And he knew he needed to say something. The situation wasn't ideal for the society they lived in, but when he'd seen her and when he'd heard her, society hadn't existed-only his desire to know her.

Once she'd finished, he'd waited on the outside of the club away from the crowd. His first words had been simple;

"Pretty voice you got there," he'd said after he'd approached her. She didn't stop moving so he walked beside her. She narrowed her eyes at him before looking straight ahead again.

"I saw you in there," she'd replied. "What's a person like you doin' in a place like that?" she'd asked him and he'd shrugged.

"I had to see you." he'd admitted. "I heard you singin' from outside and I just," he trailed off. She'd looked at him for a moment and he'd wondered what she was thinking. When she'd finally smiled, shaking her head as she looked away again, he felt the tension between them soften just a bit.

She'd allowed him to walk her home and they'd talked a bit more. She'd been dismissive and guarded at first but he'd gone home with the widest of smiles on his face nonetheless. After that night, he'd met her at that club on each of the nights she performed and walked her home for weeks, quickly falling in love with her confidence, her strength, her smile, and all the things about her she allowed him to know._ She _fell in love with his faith; with how he could open her up-how he could read _between _her strength and see her vulnerability, and how easily he could make her smile.

Weeks to months passed and it wasn't long before they were talking about everything-before they were meeting in the day time, in private because she insisted. And it wasn't long before he had explored almost every inch of her body inside of the shack where they now stood.  
Now he was laying her softly on the mattress on the floor, his lips still moving warmly against hers. Hovering over her in between her legs, his hand began to inch slowly up her thigh as he kissed her and she moaned softly into his touch. A thought occurred to her and she suddenly pressed her hand against his chest, stopping him before it all went too far and he groaned as their lips parted.

"You almost got us caught starin' like that in front of the whole town," she warned him.

"I don't understand why we're hidin' anyhow. Just us being together ain't illegal-ain't like we're getting married. Not yet." he replied and she stifled the smile that pulled at her lips. He often spoke of their future together and even though Mercedes wasn't quite sure if what he imagined would ever be possible, she loved to hear him talk about it nonetheless. She sighed before she responded.

"Don't change the fact that we live in raggedy old Virginia and most of these folks down here don't wanna see us together-married or otherwise. Including my daddy."

"Why should we care what they think? We love each other, now that should be enough, shouldn't it?" he argued. And that was where she and him differed the most. Mercedes hadn't quite gotten to the point where she could openly admit to being with him. Her father was pro-black and nothing else and her mother followed whatever her father happened to believe. Either way, she knew the outcome if they found out about her and Sam, and it wouldn't be good.

Her parents had tried on various occasions to set her up on dates with charming and good-looking men who had skin like her and would be able to provide for her as their wife. But that wasn't what she wanted. Mercedes had always been independent and talented and she wanted to be able to take care of herself-whether she was married or not. The men she'd dated in the past had only wanted to strip those qualities from her-limit her singing voice to only the task of singing lullabies to "their children" at night.

Until Sam.

Sam had _seen_ her and her talent and he'd encouraged her to use it the way she always dreamed of using it-to push it until it couldn't possibly go any further. She knew she was capable before him but their faith combined only made her stronger.

However at times Sam was blind to society's constraints and what could happen if they stepped out of them. She knew that was because they lived in two different worlds. Sam had options and true freedom, while she was limited in more ways than one-but both of them playing with the cards they had no choice in. She always found herself struggling to make him see past _his _hand to understand the way the game had to be played.

"'No it's not enough, Sam." she replied. "Cause this is the world we live in. It ain't fair but it's true. These people-this world-they don't understand our love." she told him. He sighed, laying on the side of her then, his hand resting on her cheek.

"One day they will," he promised her.

"Maybe." she said, smiling at the touch of his hand.

"They _will_." he repeated. "One day we're gonna be able to walk out on those sidewalks holdin' hands just like this," he started, holding her hand and kissing the back of it softly. "And ain't nobody gone say a thing."

"Yeah?" she asked, his conviction slowly becoming hers. It was easy for her to believe his words when his soft touch was present.

"_Yeah_," he said. "And we'll get married and have a whole bunch of curly headed kids runnin' 'round in _our_ yard."

"Wait a minute, now whatcha mean by a bunch? I want a say in this,"

"Well what do'ya want?" he asked her through a smile, kissing the tip of her nose.

"I want a house," she began. "I wanna have records that top the charts, and a good husband,"

"-me," he interjected and she laughed.

"And I want two kids,"

"Just _two_?"

"Just two," she said and his eyebrows quirked before they relaxed again as his eyes shifted down to her lips. Leaning down, he kissed her softly, and before he could pull away, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down and deepening the was a tingle in her stomach whenever they kissed and desire tugged at her until she was exhausted with it. She was overwhelmed with disappointment when he suddenly pulled away.

"We still gotta negotiate about those two kids," he said, making her giggle as he kissed her lips once more.

"I'm not changin' my mind, Sam Evans." she said and he smiled as he looked at her, leaning down to kiss her once more. And in that moment, the ridicule, the negativity, and all the legislation of the world were all long forgotten. All that was left was him and her, and the beautiful things she felt within his lips.


	3. Day Four: Friends With Benefits

**Samcedes Week Day 4: Friends With Benefits**

**I know this is out of order but I have to just post things as I finish them because I'm going out of town soon. **

**AU: Sam and Mercedes are best friends who live together in a loft. After a slight lapse in judgment one night, they began a sexual affair that neither one of them knows how to end. Hope you guys like it! I'm thinking of making it a mult-chapter. ^.^**

Mercedes sighed as she stuck her key into the door of her loft. It had been another failed attempt at meeting _Mr. Right_-the second try that week, though there had been many in the last few months since she'd listened to her cousin and signed up for that dating site. Tonight's contestant had been boring, conceited and completely unfunny-at least to her. Either way, he'd been a disappointment. And maybe it was the fact that she was twenty-six years old, still single and living with her best male friend or that all her other friends were married with kids on the way, but this was all starting to weigh heavily on her. She walked tiredly into the apartment, avoiding her roommate's stalking gaze as she entered. He was sitting on the couch in the living room just in front of the kitchen where she was headed.  
"Another bad one, huh?" Sam asked, turning back to look at her. She sighed again as she dropped her keys and purse on the black top counter.  
"I can't remember a single thing he said," she admitted, opening the refrigerator and grabbing the bottle of pink Moscato that she'd become extremely close acquaintances with during that week and then taking a wine glass from the cabinet All the while, Sam walked to join her in the kitchen. She _felt_ him behind her before she heard him as she poured her wine, his plump lips dragged across her ear. She shivered beneath his familiar touch.

"Probably because you were too busy thinking about last night." he said, his breath warm on her ear. She closed her eyes, placing the wine bottle on the counter and taking a deep breath, fighting the memory of his soft lips and his skilled tongue traveling the path from her breast all the way to her sex on the living room floor just the night before after everything on TV had become uninteresting. But that was far from the first time.  
They'd been living together for over three years and within those years, they'd seen each other naked multiple times-in the beginning on accident and then later on casual occasions when the night had drifted and their hormones had won over their inhibitions. The first time it happened they'd been drinking-not enough for either of them to be wasted drunk but they'd both mentally decided that it would be the perfect excuse for them to finally get their hands on each other, and not have to explain later.  
They'd been friends since middle school and while Sam had always been attracted to her, he'd never thought too deeply of sleeping with her. She was his friend-just his friend. They knew everything about each other, they laughed more when they were in each others company than any other time and he couldn't imagine his life without her. He firmly believed that he was _capable_ of falling in love with her. But being friends was all they knew.

It wasn't until the night he'd vividly dreamed of her on top of him, sliding up and down on his erection, that he'd begun to look at her differently. Suddenly he noticed the way her ass and her hips moved when she walked and how appetizing her lips looked when covered in the red lipstick she loved so much. And from then on, he'd found himself hoping her dates would fail. He didn't know how a relationship between she and him would ever work but he also didn't know if he liked the idea of her being with anyone after everything had started with her, no matter how many women he dated, his desire remained solely for her, every single night.

For Mercedes, it had occurred to her sooner. It had been on a night when they'd been walking back to their apartment from the movies and her ex-boyfriend had rounded the corner moments before they approached it, laughing with a beautiful girl on his arm. The last thing Mercedes had wanted was for him to see her unhappily single. Sam, knowing her the way he did, figured this without her expressing it and he'd stopped her in her tracks, wrapping his arm waist around her and pulling her into him. His lips were covering hers before she could protest. It was the first time they'd ever kissed in the nearly two decades they'd known each other. Mercedes had always been curious about his lips given the size and shape of them but she'd never imagined they'd make her feel the things they did. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was long enough and powerful enough to leave her breathless and make her forget what the purpose of it had been in the first place. And after their lips had parted and she'd opened her eyes, she'd never seen him the same. He'd become more than just her best friend who she could tell anything-more than the guy who could make her smile on her worst days and who could also push her buttons like no one else. He was all those things, _plus_ the man she fantasized about more frequently than she'd have cared to admit.

So on the night of the first time, they'd been drinking quite heavily to celebrate his promotion. He'd gone to find his tall shot glasses from college for one final toast and had instead found an object in their storage that resembled a wedding garter. Walking back into the living room to meet her again with the lace item hanging from his finger, his eyebrows raised mischievously as he looked at her. She recognized it to be hers though she couldn't quite remember what it was or where it had come from. His eyebrows told her exactly what he wanted to do and she giggled as she shook her head. But nonetheless, in a moment she wouldn't attempt to explain, she'd flopped flirtatiously down on a bar stool at the counter, sliding the fabric of the red pajama dress she'd been wearing up to expose her legs. Bending before her, he'd slid the white lace up one of her legs and up to her lush thigh, his hands leaving chills on her skin as they moved. They rested there on her thigh as he rose to his feet, his eyes locked with hers, deviating for only a moment to her lips before returning to meet her gaze. They'd both thought of pulling away before something happened that they wouldn't be able to take back. But his hands were warm against her thigh and she could feel herself growing hungry for him-she wanted to feel his lips again. So it was her who had kissed him, though his lips had responded immediately, moving fervently against hers. They'd quickly ended up on the couch and it wasn't long before he was on top of her, filling her over and over until they were both coming apart. When they woke the next morning, sprawled on the couch, they decided not to speak of it again-it was a "drunken" mistake. Only two nights later, though, they made that same mistake, only sober this time, and on the floor of the kitchen somehow. And then there seemed to be no turning back, no matter how hard Mercedes tried to fight it.  
Now as they stood in the kitchen, she found her strength and moved away from him, putting her bottle of wine back in the refrigerator before leaning her back on the counter across from him.  
"Last night was an accident. And it's not happening again." she told him firmly, just before she took a sip out of her glass.  
"I've heard that before," he said, his voice low as he moved closer to her. She felt a pull at the lowest part of her stomach as he neared her.  
"I mean it this time," she replied, though even she realized how unconvincing she sounded. He was standing too close to her now, their mouths only inches away from each others. She could feel the heat from his body colliding with hers, his longing combining with hers, starting a fire in the little space between them.  
"Heard that, too." he breathed, and confusion clouded her face when he suddenly took her glass from her hand. She felt his other hand move beneath her chin and then he was tilting her head back. She knew what was coming then and she was suddenly weak in his hands, her eyes willingly closing. Her skin tingled when she felt his lips move just once gently across hers, silently asking that she open her mouth and she obeyed.  
He poured the wine slowly into her mouth before placing the glass down on the counter behind them. Their eyes locked for a moment too long as she swallowed. His lips were warm with want and he had no intentions of fighting it. He closed the distance between them, their lips colliding and moving wildly against each others, rousing a soft moan out of her. Her lips were soft and her tongue was sweet and Sam wanted her in every way.  
They never knew what they were doing in moments like these, they only knew that they didn't want to stop. When had being just friends become insufficient?  
Mercedes moaned again as his hands moved up her thighs and behind to cup her ass over her jeans. Soon she was pulling his shirt above his head and throwing it aimlessly behind them. They didn't care enough to stop when it landed in the dishwater Sam had prepared twenty minutes earlier, their lips only continued, the same passion and hunger lingering there. His lips would only leave hers to land elsewhere on her body and in that moment they craved the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. He made a path, nibbling and sucking as she moaned. He knew she was weak for his lips and he also knew exactly where to put them to make her tremble until common sense was blurry. She hadn't yet decided if that was a good thing or not but it didn't matter right now, her only goal was unbuttoning his jeans.  
Reality hit her though, just as she successfully unbuttoned them. That reality was that she and Sam were best friends, and nothing more because neither one of them was brave enough to take the risk of moving this beyond friendship and casual sex. But she was a lot closer to thirty years old than she was to twenty and casual sex-no matter how mind-blowing-was not something she wanted. She pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him away and he looked confusedly at her.  
"I mean it this time," she repeated just before she took her glass of wine and walked towards her room.  
"You could've at least left me with a dry shirt!" he called after her, shaking his head as he looked down at the growing bulge she'd created in his jeans.  
"Sorry!" she called back, just before her bedroom door shut behind her.  
She sat at the edge of her bed, her head spinning as every area of her body he'd ever touched became heated-and he'd touched almost _every _area. Rubbing her forehead with her fingers she sighed as she looked down into her glass, the smell of the Moscato only transporting her back to the memory of him pouring it sensually into her mouth. She groaned as she placed it on the nightstand next to her bed, thinking it was going to take a miracle for her to not go back out there and let him move his lips all over her until she was exhausted with them.


End file.
